


Grievances of the Polite Man

by Hammocker



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Headcanon, M/M, Relationship Advice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammocker/pseuds/Hammocker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things only go from bad to worse after BLU Spy harasses Sniper for an entire day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Day to be Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Accents are hard, especially when they're variations on accents you're not used to hearing in the first place. Scout's accent I can write fairly effectively. Hell, I live maybe twenty minutes away from Boston, so I've actually given him a much stronger Boston accent than what is generally heard from him. I never could stand hearing Scout pronouncing his Rs in certain places where, as a Bostonian, he should not be doing so. Sniper on the other hand, I cannot write his accent properly to save my life, so, for the most part, I haven't. Please excuse any inconsistency.
> 
> If you see issues, don't hesitate to point them out. Critiques are always appreciated as well.
> 
> Beta'd by Gaiusan.

Steady on. Relax. Breathe in. Fire.

Sniper could not help the satisfied smirk that grew on his face as he witnessed his charged bullet rip straight through the helmet of the BLU Soldier, whom had been attempting to hold down the control point up until just this second. For a moment, he allowed his sights to linger upon the control point as BLU Soldier crumbled to ground. His place was quickly taken by a couple of Sniper's teammates, specifically Demoman and Scout. The former soon began setting explosive traps for the BLU team while Scout merely milled about the point at a rapid pace, demanding loudly to anyone on his team within earshot to “get on the freakin' pad.” Sniper gave a fond smile upon seeing the energy given by the youngest of the team, but soon he was back to seeking new targets.

Before long he had his scope set on the ideal targets: the Medic-Heavy pair up, encroaching upon the control point at a steady pace. Simple enough to take out from a distance really. The BLU Medic suspected nothing at this point. All Sniper needed was one good shot, and the BLU Heavy would become a far more vulnerable target to the rest of his team. Sniper stared intently down his scope now, tuning out anything in the background, and focusing completely on keeping his crosshairs right on the enemy Medic's skull.

Just as Sniper was about to pull the trigger on his rifle though, he felt a distinct sharp pain in his back. One that did not completely register in his brain at the first second of feeling it, but after only half a second became a stinging pain as though Sniper had been bitten by a one fanged serpent. Only one source could have caused such a pain: a Spy. A BLU Spy specifically. Unless his own team's Spy had finally lost his mind. The latter possibility would not have surprised Sniper in the least, though he doubted that that was the case.

Along with the pain came the heavily accented voice of his rival, “Surprise.” BLU Spy muttered, far too close to Sniper's ear for the marksman's liking. He heard a brief chuckle before he was allowed to topple to the floor. “Nothing personal, Sniper.” The Spy continued, though he did not depart as quickly as Sniper would have expected him to. Sniper could understand this brief loitering though. Spy seemed like the sort to bask in his own work. He was a lot like Sniper in that way really. The only real difference being that Sniper killed from a distance without any deception involved. That and Sniper was slightly less likely to cause specific individuals to immediately lose all perception more than ten times a battle. Of course, it was no time to be comparing and contrasting himself with his rival. The world around Sniper was blurring, and Sniper only hoped that this would be the end of BLU Spy disturbing his work for the day.

*****

Sniper let out a breath of air as he fired off a bullet at the BLU Pyro whom had been savagely defending the control point from any member of the Red team who got within range of his flamethrower. Really, Sniper was not too fond of shooting at the Pyro. From what Sniper had seen of BLU Pyro off-duty, there was not a mean bone in his body. Very much like the Red team's resident firestarter, he appeared to be generally quite kind and even a bit innocent despite spreading more than enough justifiable terror and unrest among his enemies. Sniper probably would not have kept his scope on the BLU Pyro to watch the body crumble to the ground even if he had not turned from the window that he had been looking out from to investigate the sound of footsteps nearby. The Razorback that he had equipped not long after Spy's last occasion of backstabbing him had not been shattered. Sniper was unsure of what to make of his anti-Spy equipment remaining intact. Had the enemy spy thought better of his actions and sought another target? No, that was not his style at all. Sniper needed to check around the room.

Once his rifle was appropriately sheathed, Sniper wielded his simple kukri as he looked around for the source of the scuffling upon the too oft stepped upon, marred wooden floor. He got himself away from the window hurriedly before slowing down to observe each detail of the room for any signs of abnormality. If BLU Spy was present, he could easily cause some motion if he slipped up for even a brief instant. A crate could be misplaced by an inch. A part of the pile of hay could have been shifted. One of the several empty cans or bottles lying about might even make a sound if the Spy was careless enough to accidentally allow one of his feet to connect to connect with one. Besides, even if BLU Spy had not left any of those signs, a Spy could not stay hidden forever.

The distinct sound of a Spy decloaking accompanied by an all-too-familiar voice alerted Sniper. “Looking for something?” came the voice of a spy from behind, causing Sniper to instinctively whip around so that he would at least not be killed in one foul swoop. BLU Spy, though, did not seem at all interested in attempting to kill Sniper at the moment. He merely stood by one of the crates near to the window that Sniper had been looking out of, looking quite pleased with himself.

“Whot ahr ye' playin' at?” Sniper demanded, glaring at BLU Spy while gripping his kukri harder than ever. Something was very wrong, he knew that much, but there was no way to tell exactly what was wrong in this case. He could hardly ever tell what either Spy was thinking or feeling. It was true that Sniper saw his own team's Spy more often for more extended periods of time, yet his relationship with BLU Spy often felt far more personal. The feeling of slight familiarity may just have come from the frequent sense of BLU Spy breathing down his neck, but it was still very present. Still, despite the enemy Spy having some tiny spot on the outskirts of his heart, Sniper could not read BLU Spy any better than he could his own team's Spy. There was a subtlety to both men that could not be replicated by any other class. Considering their role though, this intriguing quality was to be expected. Though for all the traits that they shared, they were not completely the same.

“Stalling.” The spy casually told him with a shrug of his shoulders, breaking Sniper out of his thoughts. His knife was held with unusual looseness, and occasionally BLU Spy would glance out of the open window.

Sniper edged towards the window to look out for any signs of approaching trouble that Spy might be attempting to keep him from interfering with, not once removing BLU Spy from at least his peripheral vision. The point was not being contested whatsoever from what he could tell. Engineer had even set up several sentries that had barely even been touched. Why was BLU Spy here with him instead of sapping those sentries? Nothing about this situation made any tactical sense. Though Sniper was beginning to believe that Spy had thrown away any sort of strategy from the beginning based on the number of times that he had been backstabbed that day.

In the middle of trying to work out just what Spy was doing, what felt distinctly like a fully charged bullet from a basic sniper rifle hit Sniper in the eye, and only kept going from there. He grabbed at the wound, crying out in pain before collapsing onto the floor. Sniper did not believe that he would quite get used to the feeling of being shot in the head. Though the surprise went away quickly, the pain stayed for seconds on end. A few seconds would not have been much in most situations, but there were not many things in life more excruciating than a bullet shredding through the tissue of one's brain. Still, that was just an everyday occurrence on this battlefield. It was nothing that about ten seconds of unconsciousness and a little help from a spawn point could not fix.

“You are much too easy, Sniper.” BLU Spy commented, standing above Sniper then. The statement was mocking, but not cold, nor particularly threatening in tone. Spy had an air of smugness that made Sniper want to shoot him in the face, yet he was never afraid of BLU Spy. Really, if he were to wipe away the smugness, BLU Spy seemed like someone who Sniper might go out for coffee with on occasion. Now that he thought about it, were he in the same situation with his allied Spy, Sniper would worry about his drink being poisoned if he were to look away for less than a second.

There was not much time to think though. Seeing that he was not quite dead yet, BLU Spy approached Sniper, and sank his knife into the other man's chest. For the twenty seventh time that day, Sniper felt his conscious simply fade to darkness.

*****

“Havin' a bitta trouble theh, Snipes?” Scout had teased as he was patching himself up at the resupply closet. He had only meant well, no doubt about that. Maybe he was only trying to lighten Sniper's mood in his own condescending yet endearing way. It might have worked at any other time.

Sniper though, was in no mood for the friendly teasing that they would have shared off of the battlefield at that moment. “I wish ye wouldn' call me that.” He had responded to Scout, making no attempt to hide his avoidance of the larger issue.

“Ah, lighten up, ya frickin' ovahgrown wombat.” Scout snapped back, instinctively defending himself as he always did. As Sniper made his way back towards one of several vantage points, Scout walked alongside him, matching Sniper's pace effortlessly. “I try ta be a bit nice, and I don't get a bitta thanks. The hell's yah prahblem? Nah, don't ansah that one. I know what it is ualready; I've seen ya: ya've had the Frenchie on yah ass uall day.”

Sniper did not like that Scout was getting right to the heart of the problem so quickly. Best to get Scout's mind back on the fight as soon as possible so that he could attempt to get a bit of revenge on BLU Spy. “If the rest of the team sees ye aroun' me like this, they're gonna kill us both. If I were you, I'd get away from me before they notice that yer gone.” He muttered most of his words, not feeling up to ordering Scout to get back to capturing points at the moment. All of the more offensive members of the team got enough sharp orders from their dim-witted, self-appointed drill sergeant, Soldier, anyway. Sniper figured that raising his voice was generally best left as an absolute last resort. 

“Ya know, he ain't worth gettin' worked up ovah.” Scout continued, either completely undeterred by Sniper's warning or ignoring his words altogether. “He's messin' with ya head, buddy. I dunno why he is, but he's a real douchebag. Theh like that; can't do nothin' about it but try ta get'em before they getcha, or point an' laugh when someone else blows'em up.”

Worry only further clouded Sniper's mind as Scout droned on about Spy's inherent manner. He needed to get Scout away from him before his absence was noticed. Nobody would bother Sniper about not participating in the battle for a moment or two. He was not the fastest of the team nor was he expected to be right in the heat of combat. Scout, on the other hand, was supposed to be at the forefront of the battle, pushing forward with the other offensive classes. Nobody would think twice about hassling Scout for not hurrying back to help capture more points, or grab the intelligence. Sniper was not fond of seeing the rather young mercenary being harshly criticized for anything even if he did deserve criticism at times. Best to get Scout away from him before anyone could notice. There was one place that Scout would certainly not follow him up to: the nearby tower. Though he would have to continue listening to Scout on his way there.

“Yah toughah than this, Snipah, I know ya ah. I nevah seen ya lookin' so damn mopey ovah bein' killed a lot. Shit happens, y'know that. Lemme tell ya, my sahry ass gets handed to me a ton by alotta people, a lot more often than you. Yah lucky, ya really ah, bein' fah away. It gets fricken annoying, hoppin' around, shootin' people in the face, kickin' ass, and then gettin' blown ta bits 'cause ya jumped right in fronta Soldiah's rocket.”

Scout's words began to fade away as Sniper began to climb up the tower that he had been heading towards, but soon enough Sniper heard him shouting in frustration.

“Well, that's just great-a ya, ain't it?! Just ignore yah pal when he's tryin' ta help! Climb then, ya faggot, before I-!” A distant gunshot and Scout's words broke off into a scream. Sniper tiled his head back downwards to spot Scout now laying on the ground, completely still, blood beginning to pour out onto the dust near his head. Though Scout would no doubt respawn in less than ten seconds, Sniper could not help but clench his teeth with frustration at the sight. There were only two people who could have made Scout scream like that, but based on the distinct booming sound of a sniper rifle, Sniper fell under the impression that a certain other man of his own discipline was responsible for the kill of his boy. That did it.

Faster than ever, Sniper continued up the tower, eager to make his BLU counterpart pay for even considering harming his Scout while he was off guard. To be a sniper, and shoot a scout standing in one place was like using the same sniper rifle to kill grounded game animals. There was no challenge to the kill. Nothing in the way. No real effort needed. Sniper had every inclination to get up to the top to make his personal offense at BLU Sniper's discourteous kill known in the best way that Sniper knew how: getting a headshot on his counterpart.

Once he was at the top though, it took Sniper a while to spot his mirror image in the scope of his rifle. Bastard was shifting positions regularly, running around his side of the map, and not allowing Sniper to find a decent opening for a nice headshot. No missing, no mistakes. Efficiency was key here, especially now that BLU Sniper had made the conflict personal. Well, personal in Sniper's eyes. BLU Sniper likely had simply gone for Scout because he had made himself an easy target. Still not a fair target, but an easy one nonetheless. Clearly BLU Sniper was hardly thinking about who or what he was shooting at.

“Hello.” A much-too-familiar voice said from behind Sniper. At first, Sniper could not believe that a spy would go out of his way to climb a tower just to get to one enemy, but there was no other explanation. Unless, of course, his team's spy was playing a cruel trick after seeing Sniper's distress. In fact, considering that Sniper was not dead quite immediately, Red Spy could very well be the one behind him.

“Well? Stab me already. Go on.” Sniper challenged solemnly, still looking through his sights, and trying to find a decent shot.

“You think me cruel?” The sentence sounded like it could have been a statement, but Sniper decided to take it as a question.

“Way ye've been going afteh me today, I'd call yew a bloody sadist.” Sniper growled back at his rival.

“Take your shot.”

Sniper was very tempted to look back and stare at BLU Spy as he said those words. His enemy, his long-time rival, the bloody cheating demon was telling Sniper to shoot at one of his teammates. What was he trying to pull? This ruse just had to be some kind of trick.. There was no way that a spy would have so much decency.

“I was present when my, eh, friend took the head off of your lover.” Spy smoothly explained, somewhere between flat and sympathetic. “Take your vengeance. When you are done, then our conflict shall be completed.”

Sniper's first instinct was to question how BLU Spy knew about the intimacy that he shared with Scout, but knowing either Spy, they had their eyes and their ears and their ways of knowing. Instead, Sniper began to question the best course of action. It would be easy to take out his counterpart at this point, but it would also be just as easy to grab his kukri and get a well-deserved revenge kill on BLU Spy. As he considered, Sniper shifted his crosshairs about as though he was following movement, despite the fact that BLU Sniper was barely moving at all. He needed to stall for decision time. On one hand, Spy was standing right behind him, practically asking to be cut down to size. Besides, Scout could very effectively take care of himself, and really did not need Sniper defending him at all. On the other, BLU Sniper had been part of one of BLU Spy's earlier maneuvers to get Sniper killed, and he was standing in such a perfect position.

At last, grabbed his blade, and whirled around to face BLU Spy, causing his rival to back off slightly, knife still equipped. There was surprise in his face, but the playfulness in his expression that had not gone away all day was still as present as ever, driving Sniper further and further towards madness as he continued to observe his rival's face.

“I see your priorities are as orderly as ever, my friend.” BLU Spy taunted, grinning at Sniper as he did so.

Sniper, though, had had enough of BLU Spy's bollocks for the day, and lunged at him without hesitation. The blow he made was dead on across Spy's chest, and it seemed almost appropriate that the BLU immediately fell limp. The weight of his strike almost made Sniper believe that such an occurrence was possible under normal circumstances. Something told Sniper that things simply were not that easy though. No one fell to a kukri that easily, not even a spy. Unless, of course, BLU Spy had been injured beforehand, but Sniper had not seen any blood or bruises that would have indicated Spy having already seen combat in his current life. No, something was wrong, and Sniper had a sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly what it was.

More slowly than usual, Sniper trudged back over to the tower's railing, and looked down over the edge. For the moment, he could only stare blankly at what he saw. Below was BLU Spy, looking up at the tower. As soon as he saw Sniper looking over, he gave a wave up to the bushman before cloaking once again. What had just happened took time to sink in, but once it had, something inside of Sniper momentarily broke under all of the frustration and humiliation that he had been put through that day. Sniper threw his head back and began shouting cries of nonsense bred from pure, undistilled vexation. In the few seconds that he was able to shout, Sniper could not have cared any less who heard him and who did not. He simply needed to make his complete ire with the BLU team's spy known to anyone who might be in earshot.

Sniper's shouts were cut off once more as he was hit through the cheek with a bullet from a sniper rifle. He crumbled to the ground not long after, an incredible amount of pain causing his nerves to shriek in protest. Pain was something that he had always had to deal with, but mercenary work no doubt had led to some of the most painful experiences Sniper had ever been through. Bullets hurt when they were being shot at him. It was nothing that he could not handle, but it was not exactly enjoyable to have one's flesh shredded through at ridiculous speeds. Still, Sniper could not help himself from smiling as he once again began to die. The sun was finally going down. Soon enough, he could wash the bad taste of the day from his mouth, and give himself some time to relax. Soon enough.


	2. A Little Yelling

There was a constant droning in Sniper's ears. A buzzing that permeated his ears like nothing else. A bombination that sounded distinctly like the chattering of a certain spastic Bostonian with nothing better to do but talk. It was a familiar noise, even a comforting one at times. If his friend were to not be talking himself up constantly, Sniper would most likely have suspected that there was a problem that he was not aware of, and if it turned out that there was in fact a problem, he might have had to go out and do something about it. Of course, the day when Scout did not talk about himself frequently still had yet to come, as far as Sniper could tell. It was simply the way of things for Scout to display gross arrogance, and Sniper was a patient enough man to listen with one ear without a single complaint. Most of the time, at least.

Truth be told, Sniper was nettled at the moment. Extremely nettled. It had not been the most pleasant of days for him in the first place. BLU Spy had not been pulling any punches that particular day. He had wanted Sniper very, very dead for all of the teams' conflicts, and had not been in the least bit afraid to express it. Even the few times that Sniper had managed to catch Spy in the act, and take him out with a swipe or two of his kukri, the bloody spook would just come right back to bother him. In the end, the BLU team had wound up losing anyway, but Sniper was more tired than he usually would have been on days when his team lost. His back still ached from the numerous incisions that had been made throughout the day. Earlier in his employment, he had thought that the irritation that came after respawning with injuries was the product of some fault in the spawn points. As the days dragged on though, and Sniper continued to find himself sore with an insidious sort of ghost pain after he respawned, he could only accept it as being a result of how the points were designed, and place more and more blame on the enemy team for causing the pain. Strange as it was, the slighter the injury received in combat, the more Sniper seemed to be able to feel it later on.

Despite Sniper's annoyance, backstabbing had never seemed like a particularly malicious act to him, at least when performed by BLU Spy. Rather, it seemed almost like a playful gesture. A provocation no less, but almost inviting extreme retaliation once one were to respawn. BLU Spy's backstabs certainly seemed less threatening than the assassinations he had seen carried out by his own team's Spy. RED Spy, to Sniper, had always seemed like one to watch closely, just in case. His own team's Spy was, in a word, cruel. His words always seemed more scathing, more poisonous than those of BLU Spy. He seemed intent to be legitimately threatening to the BLU team, and most often he succeeded. He was an absolute terror to the BLU Heavy despite being tiny compared to the over-sized Russian, not to mention his subsequent deception of the BLU Medic which often led to a nightmarish scream from one of the various narrow hallways around each map. A scream that even Sniper, despite all his experience, found extremely difficult to listen to. Most telling though, was his clear favoring of the Spycicle. Whereas BLU Spy would have used the simple, but elegant Black Rose, RED Spy preferred to leave his victims frozen with an expression of pain, shock, and utter terror every time he backstabbed them, unnerving anyone whom might come across a corpse left by him. As far as Sniper was concerned, the icy weapon was one of the cruelest that either Spy could choose to make use of. Of course, maybe he should not be one to judge, considering his frequent use of Jarate. Overall, Sniper trusted neither BLU nor RED Spy, but he was confident that the former was much less likely to try to kill him for real than the latter.

At that very second though, Sniper was not dealing with his bitter rival. He was under no threat of being backstabbed and sent back to the nearest spawn point. There was no need to worry about listening for a Spy decloaking; his ears were full enough already with the sound of Scout going on and on while pacing back and forth across the floor of his van. He was not even sure what the younger man was even talking about anymore. At first he had been saying something about running into BLU Pyro in one of the Lakeside tunnels, but then he had digressed, and Sniper had simply stopped following. For a while, he had tolerated the chatter, but his senses were beginning to protest his acceptance of Scout's presence. As much as he did not want to admit it to himself or Scout, Sniper's patience was wearing thin, and it was wearing thin quickly.

With no warning, and no regard for whatever statement Scout might have been making, Sniper finally allowed the words that he had been holding back to slip off of his tongue, as he rapidly sat up to glare at Scout. “D'ya ever stop talking?!” Sniper's words almost sounded like a retort in how rough they came out, just barely tearing past his clenched teeth. Though Sniper had meant them to only be a warning, they had come from a place that was harsher than he had anticipated. He had never liked being too sharp with Scout. Poor fellow was obviously not finished growing, in his mind or in his body, and Sniper knew all too well what that was like. No sooner than he had begun regretting speaking up than more words came flowing out, “I can hardly believe that I've even put up with yer yabber for this long. Don't ye' know when to leave a man be?”

The moment that he had begun to speak, Scout had immediately stopped chattering, and frozen in place to stare at Sniper. His face was mostly blank with surprise, yet with detectable hints of something like hurt. The expression was not something that Sniper was used to seeing on his teammates face, and he was not entirely sure if the look suited Scout. Sniper was, however, certain that he did not like that he was responsible for the contortion on his friend's face. Still, the shock was quickly replaced with indigence and anger.

“The hell's yah prahblem? If ya want me gone, I'll go! Ya don't have to be a freakin' dick about it! I don't need ta stick around ya, ya koala fag, I nevah did.”

With his patience already worn out, and the conflict already started, Sniper could not stop himself from retorting, “Then rack off and find somebody else who wants to listen to all yer little problems!”

“At least I do tualk t'ya! I don't see nobody else hangin' around here! Whatcha gonna do without me?! Cual that French fairy ovah ta blow ya?!”

“I don't need anyone aroun' me for anything!” Sniper roared back, completely lost in irritation and anger, “I spent the prime years of my life alone, and I did it to avoid whackas like yew! Get out!”

Scout looked as though he might have wanted to continue the argument, to retort to Sniper's jab, but instead he simply turned and stormed out the door of the van, shaking with what could have been rage. Sniper blinked slowly as he realized what had just happened. The best company that he had in the compound, and his main source of sexual gratification had simply run off after only a moment of arguing. Worse still, Scout was a stubborn little thing. He could easily not come around for days. Sniper might have to be the one to defuse the tension, and that would not go over well with his pride. “Bloody hell.” He muttered to himself, slumping back in his seat, and reaching for a nearby can of beer.

*****

Sniper found it difficult to force himself to sleep that night. There was a nagging sensation that something was missing. Someone, in this case. Sniper had pinned down the problem hours ago. Maybe he had become a bit too used to having another person in his bed. Maybe Scout had stayed with him overnight one too many times. Still, even if he had made a bad habit of cuddling his younger teammate, Sniper wanted Scout next to him then. Little gremlin was more open to being held onto than his attitude during combat would have suggested, not to mention that his presence helped to relegate the chill that came down upon the desert at night.

As much as he would have hated to admit it to anyone but himself, Sniper could not shake the loneliness that the non-presence was causing him. Him, of all people. Sniper, the huntsman who had spent so much time on his own teaching himself how to survive in the bush. He, the loner who barely spoke so much as a word to the rest of his team unless prompted or provoked. Him, lonely. Sniper sighed as he realized that he must have really lost his touch because of Scout. Though whether or not the loss was for better or for worse remained to be seen. No longer wanting to dwell any longer on his late night thoughts, the marksman closed his eyes in a fruitless attempt to at least get a few hours of sleep in.


	3. A Bit of Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyro offers some words of wisdom after a less than ideal workday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing, Pyro is not necessarily female here. Sniper simply perceives Pyro to be female in my headcanon, and because I am using third person limited, Pyro will be referred to as female in the narration.
> 
> Pyro's dialogue was so much fun to write.
> 
> An alternate chapter title could be That Damn Third Chapter because, for the life of me, I could not find just enough time to finish this for a while. Fortunately, I did finish it after all. Go me.

The following morning, the two teams had started off at Lakeside, and Sniper could have sworn that he felt eyes boring into the back of his head as he entered the area as well as during the initial countdown to the start of the first round. No sooner had the Administrator authorized the team to move had Sniper started out of the RED base had he been knocked into Engineer by a red blur hurrying out of the base ahead of everyone else. As he said a quick apology to the mechanic, Sniper also noted the lack of any battle cries shouted with an obnoxiously loud Boston accent. Neither sign boded well for Sniper or his teammates.

Sniper started off in one of his typical spots on map: standing just behind the wall that protected the ramp up to the base's ramparts. Scanning the opposite side of the map, he spotted the BLU team's Engineer darting sideways up the ramp up to his team's battlements. Such a movement could mean too many things to count, but Sniper had an idea of what the enemy Engineer was planning. Beyond that, it looked as though Scout and Soldier had managed to hold down the control point so far, though Soldier seemed slightly battered. Looking down at the corpse of the BLU team's Scout laying on the ground nearby, Sniper could guess the reason for his teammate's wounds.

Where had Scout gotten to though? Usually he was the first at the control point. Had he headed past the point and towards the enemy base? Impulsive as Scout was, Sniper had not thought that he lacked the common sense to know that holding down the control point was always the top priority in a King of the Hill match. In fact, Scout was usually the one insisting on sticking to the around around the point even when both Demoman and Heavy were present to keep the BLU team away. It seemed strange that Scout would simply run off on his own on a whim, and even stranger that Sniper had not spotted him since exiting the base. As he looked through his scope once more though, Sniper finally caught a glimpse his twitchy companion.

Across the map, Sniper's counterpart must have been scoping out how the field was developing when Scout had approached from behind and begun to beat him with a baseball bat. The match up was hardly fair, BLU Sniper having been occupied looking down his scope and now feebly trying to defend himself with an SMG, but Sniper thought it unfitting for him to pass judgment on how his teammates went about their business. Considering that circumstances were abnormal though, Sniper kept his scope on the two and began to make more specific observations.

First and foremost, Sniper realized that Scout was carrying a bat fitted with nails, a weapon that could easily harm its user if not used in the exact way that it was intended to be. In fact, it looked like Scout was already bleeding from the sharp points as well as the bullets coming from his counterpart's gun. Scout's normally bright red and vibrant attire was torn or stained deep crimson all around his torso, to say nothing of the many droplets running down the pale flesh of his arms. Though it was Scout's own choice to use such a risky weapon, Sniper could not help but feel a sting of sympathy. Normally, he would have left his teammate to deal with the problem himself, but Sniper felt certain that Scout would be killed if not given any aid.

Steadily, Sniper brought the crosshairs of his rifle over to his counterpart's slow-moving form, avoiding the distraction of Scout's more rapid motion. A headshot was unlikely, though not unfeasible, but Sniper's concern was putting Scout out of harm's way. Sacrificing a charged bullet for a target that would normally be considered low-priority would be completely worthwhile for this particular purpose. Besides, much of the current action happening was in the enclosed part of the map next to the area holding the capture point. From where he was standing then, he would have been no use to a brawl going on indoors. Best to help where he could instead of not at all. After a moment of taking careful aim, Sniper finally fired off at his physical duplicate.

The few seconds that followed were almost too fast for Sniper to quite comprehend. First, Scout's opponent crumbled to the ground from Sniper's shot, clearly already weak from struggling to keep up in close range combat. Scout's response to this was one of surprise, followed quickly by annoyance. He glanced around, looking for the party responsible for taking out BLU Sniper before he could land a final blow. As soon as Scout found the one he was looking for though, Sniper was faced with a glare that he had some trouble looking at through his scope. Sure enough, Scout did not appreciate his teammate 'stealing' that particular kill. Fortunately, Scout's glare was soon directed elsewhere before being replaced with a dumbstruck expression. What Sniper could only assume was an utterance of “Ah, fuck.” was uttered by Scout before he hurried off towards whatever had captured his attention.

“Ungrateful little brat.” Sniper muttered under his breath as he waited for his rifle to charge once again, looking for another potential target. “Can't be appreciative of a bloody assist.” Though his words were harsh, they only served to mask an underlying sense that their argument was not about to go away on its own. Normally, Scout would never have minded Sniper offering a bit of help. That was his job after all, being classified as support. No, one of them was going to have to make the first move, and chances were that he would have to be the one to do so, Scout being the stubborn lout that he was. Sniper was not about to make any apologies so quickly though. He had pride to maintain, and was not about to give it up just because Scout could be adamant for days on end.

*****

At the end of the workday, RED team had lost on four out of the five maps that they had been battling upon. Needless to say, their struggles with the BLU team had gotten far worse than they had the prior day. Sniper could attribute this to many factors. Medic might have decided to stop putting up with healing his teammates after they had not bothered to protect him, and proceeded to directly attack the enemy team. Demoman might have been more drunk than usual. A BLU heavy sentry might have been keeping them off of a point or two. Morale could have been down for whatever reason. Sniper could hardly tell, being far from most of the action for the majority of rounds. Still, at least BLU Spy had left him alone for almost the entire time so Sniper could hardly give any personal complaints.

Right then, Sniper sat in his campervan, flipping through an issue of Oz, trying to ward off the feeling that something was missing that evening. Something loud and even a bit annoying yet treasured all the same. 

A knock came from the door as Sniper was drifting off into a state resembling sleep. He could scarcely believe his ears at the noise. Had Scout really come so soon to work things out? Had he finally decided to be reasonable? Was he just so horny that he could not keep away any longer? While Sniper doubted there being any truth to his theories, he still held hope and anticipation at the thought of his visitor maybe, just maybe, being an apologetic Scout. Hurriedly, Sniper stowed away the magazine that could potentially send the wrong message to any of his teammates, and moved over towards the door.

As he opened the door though, Sniper tried to stifle the frown that came upon his face. His visitor was not Scout, in fact. Rather, Pyro had been knocking upon his door, still fully dressed in her asbestos suit from the day. He might have asked if Pyro ever became uncomfortable considering her seemingly ever-present attire, but Sniper liked his van best when it was not on fire.

“Er, evening, Pyro.” Sniper greeted his teammate, “Yew, uh, need something from me?”

“Ermhrm.” Came the muffled reply, “Mrm erridat eronna mrk mrmems era trm.”

“Pah- don?” Sniper said slowly after a pause, raising his brow with uncertainty.

“Er erreng er ersh mrmems era trm.” Pyro reiterated, slightly less rapid in her speech this time.

Where was Engineer when you really needed him? Sniper had no idea what Pyro was trying to tell him. “Sorry, didn' catch that. Whot?”

“Er mrt erth- Hrm.” Pyro stopped herself after a second of more frustrated muffled speech. She put a gloved hand to the side of her mask, and shifted her weight onto one leg. It took a moment, but finally she spoke again. “Ahha! Erper an en.” She demanded, more terse than previously.

Harp or a hen? No. Herder and den? No, that could not be right either. You're in for an end? No, no, no, not right at all. At least, Sniper hoped it was not. “Say that again.” Sniper requested gently.

“Erper an en.” Pyro repeated, seeming to stare intently at Sniper now behind her goggles and mask.

“Er, hurt her again?” Sniper guessed hopefully with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Uh-uh! Erper. An. En.” She finally held her hand flat so the palm faced upwards, and gave a shaky back and forth motion with her other hand.

“Oh. Oh!” At last, Sniper understood what she was trying to ask for. He turned to retrieve the nearest piece of paper and writing utensil available before a thought crossed his mind. “Eh, yew sure that yew didn' just come oveh here to bohrow some kindling?”

“Uh-uh.” Pyro replied, shaking her head in a convincing, if exaggerated motion.

“I 'ope not.” Sniper muttered to himself before grabbing a pen from his coffee mug full of various utensils along with some of the stationary near to it. Normally, he would not have given up a sheet of paper so easily. Paper was not exactly something that he had found to be commonplace on the compound, and there had been more than one occasion in which Sniper had needed to write notes for his teammates or even for his own failing memory. Still, if Pyro wanted some of his stationary, then far be it from him to deny her a single sheet.

Sniper soon returned to Pyro and offered her the objects that he had retrieved. She gave an appreciative grunt that sounded something like “thanks” before getting to work on whatever it was that she wanted to say, pressing the paper firmly against the side of Sniper's van as she worked. Sniper almost wanted to lean outside slightly to see Pyro's work in progress, but somehow he felt as though Pyro would not take such an action well. Waiting in patience would be a safer option even if Sniper was driven mad by the not knowing. Though at least the frantic scrawling that he could hear from his position was something of a comfort.

At last, Pyro let out a muffled cross between an exclamation and a yelp, and hold his work up so that Sniper could see it properly. Upon first looking at the drawing, Sniper had little idea as to what he was looking at. The marks made by Pyro were dark with weight put on the pencil, not dissimilar to the strokes that might have been made by a child just learning to use the instrument. He could make out the two pairs of simple figures near the top of the page. They were both simple rectangles with squares for heads, but Sniper realized almost immediately what they were supposed to be. One was noticeably smaller and thinner than the other, and the other had the distinct shape of a sniper rifle at his side.

“Those two up there are me and Scout then?” Sniper asked his teammate, still observing the crude drawing.

“Rmhrm.” Pyro answered with a short nod.

With the confirmation in mind, Sniper began to note the differences between each pair. At that point, Sniper realized that he had missed a detail. The figures did have hands, but no limbs. They were just tiny circles, but they were there. More important though, was that the picture on his left depicted his and Scout's 'hands' overlapping. At the same time, Sniper noticed that the figures to his right had their 'hands' separate, were farther apart, and appeared slightly turned from each other. Sniper might have guessed earlier, but now he was certain of it: Pyro was here to talk to him about his argument with Scout. That was just what he needed. Relationship counseling from the most volatile member of the team. 

As he squinted, the lower images began to make itself clear. The background had been drawn first, and the figures second, making the latter more difficult to see. Sniper was certain, though, that either side had the distinct shape of Pyro. Though still an unrefined image, Pyro's self-portrayal was relatively true to life compared to the other humanoids on the sheet of paper. On the left side, Pyro also had a weapon in his hands, the brass instrument styled flamethrower that blew deadly bubbles specifically, and appeared to be skipping along. Sniper could not remember Pyro using that particular weapon recently. Also skipping was another stick-type figure, the cigarette in its mouth and tie on its chest in indicating the class that Pyro was trying to depict. Sniper was not going to question why Spy seemed to be pleased by Pyro's presence in the image. Rather, he took the general pleasant tone as indication that Pyro considered his and Scout's peaceful relationship to be an integral part to enjoying himself in combat. In sharp contrast, the image to the right depicted Pyro running from figures that may have represented Heavy and Medic. One shape was bulbous and even taller than Sniper's caricature while the other was comparably tiny, sprouting bat wings, and connected to the first shape by some kind of cord resembling a tapeworm sprouting from its hand. Sniper glanced up at Pyro with mild astonishment. He had not though that she thought so poorly of BLU Medic. Either way though, he understood her point. 

“Alright, sheila, I get the idea.” Sniper finally told Pyro. “Me and Scout's little blue has been hurtin' yew.”

“Mrmhrm.” Pyro said, giving a solemn nod of her head. “Mrt rst mr urom. Hr trm.”

“Thought as much.” Sniper replied, putting a hand to his cheek. “And yew would 'ave me do what?”

“Erk erp?” Pyro suggested with an exaggerated shrug.

For the first time, Sniper understood exactly what his teammate had been trying to tell him. “Yeah. Yeah, yer probably roight.” He let out a sigh, allowing his upper back to arch just slightly. “Fine. I'll try to talk to him, alright? I'll take care of it. Yew 'ave my word on that.”

“Hudda!” Pyro exclaimed as she hopped a millimeter or two off of the ground and gave a clap that was muffled by her gloves. She produced a matchbook from somewhere on her suit. Sniper could not exactly how she had managed to comfortably fit a box of matches in her glove, but the fact that she had them was not at all surprising to him. Knowing Pyro, she kept lighters and and matches all over her suit for when her flamethrower was not available. Surprised or not, though, Sniper practically panicked at the sight of Pyro carrying any kind of igniter near his campervan.

“Wait, wait-!” Sniper tried to deter her, but already Pyro had lit a match and set her drawing on fire. As the flame began to slowly consume the paper, Pyro held it out to Sniper as though it were some kind of peace offering.

Biting back a groan, Sniper reached out a tentative hand and took the paper by the corner farthest from the flame. “Er, thanks. For all of that.”

Pyro dipped her head and tilted her upper half down in something similar to a bow. “Erry trm.” She said before hurrying off with a spring in her step, focused on the still burning match.

The moment that Pyro moved out of his view, Sniper finally let out the breath of air that he had been holding in, and walked over to the fire pit near his van. He shoved the half-burnt piece of paper underneath a couple of rocks before standing back up to full height, staring at the paper as the flame burned itself out. Irritated as he was over Pyro lighting something on fire near his van, Sniper had to admit that she had a point. After all, the team had done a poorer job than usual during the day. His and Scout's spatting probably had a hand in their performance. Every member of the team counted for something after all, even relatively weak members like himself. Any dead weight at all would drag everyone down. On that thought, Sniper promised himself that during the following day he would pull Scout aside to have a word with him.


End file.
